The Deptford Histories

by Robin Jarvis

  “A true hunter would rather be dead than tamed!” he shouted hurriedly. “Tooth and claw is the only discipline!”

  Imelza’s eyes widened and she purred with satisfaction. “You would do well to take those teachings to heart,” she warned. “Do not forget who and what you are, my son. A hunter you shall always be—that is the rightful destiny for us all, not to dance and perform at the human’s pleasure.”

  But Jupiter made no reply for he knew she was wrong. There was another path open to him.

  Imelza licked herself and cleaned her whiskers. It was time for rest; the wild night would have to do without her yet again. Now that they were reconciled she smiled at Jupiter and bedded down to sleep.

  Jupiter waited until he heard the softest of snores and beckoned Dab over. The tortoiseshell tiptoed across to him with a look of reproof on her face. He did not wait for her to scold him. “Bless you Dab,” he thanked her the moment she stood at his side, “you saved me a vicious beating back then.”

  “Perhaps it was unwise of me,” she teased. “Your pride could do with a few knocks, brother mine.”

  He laughed at that then turned to check on their mother. “Follow me,” he told his sister, “I must tell you of tonight’s adventure.”

  So, the two kittens padded over to the far wall where they hoped their talk would not disturb Imelza.

  “Was it really beautiful outside?” Dab asked. “I can’t remember the time before we were here. I should like to see the outside world.”

  Jupiter nodded eagerly. “Oh Dab!” he enthused. “The city is a fantastic place, there are so many distractions that my head swam. I wanted so much to rush off into the shadows but my master constrained me.”

  “Hush!” cried Dab appalled that he should use the word again.

  “I care not!” he hissed defiantly. “Mother does not know everything—I want to be more than what she wishes. Oh Dab, there are such secrets to be learned, far more important than the Hunter’s Creed. Do you know what I have discovered already?” His sister shook her head, not sure if she really wanted to know. “Magic!” he declared. “I am beginning to understand some of that hidden craft. Why I believe that even the squiggles in my master’s books are becoming clear to me!”

  “No!” Dab breathed in horror.

  “Yes,” he assured her, “whilst I sit beside him he traces what he reads with his finger and speaks the words out loud. I have watched and I have learned until I too can recognise some of what is written.”

  “But what use will this awful knowledge be?” she asked. “No good can come of it surely?”

  “Let me tell you what happened tonight and you will see what I shall be able to do one day.”

  And so Jupiter related all that had happened in the churchyard that night. Dab listened in amazement and her eyes were soon large and goggling. From the shadowy corner Leech strained his ears to catch what was said. If only he had been there, if only he could read the human’s writing. Silently he crawled out of the darkness and crept ever closer to his brother and sister.

  When Jupiter had come to the end of his tale Dab tutted. “As I said, no good can come of that. There is no kindness in disturbing the natural order—you should leave well alone, brother.”

  “Tish!” he retorted. “Watch this. I’ll show you what I am capable of.” He stared intently at the ashes in the dimly glowing grate and began to chant peculiar words. His whiskers quivered as magical forces channelled through his small body and his golden eyes blazed with force.

  The cold ashes stirred over the dying embers. Jupiter squeezed his eyes shut and concentrated hard, his ears flattened onto his skull and his voice became strained.

  With a deafening whoosh, fierce tongues of flame burst from the grate and roared up the chimney. The fire which volcanoed there was blinding. It filled the attic with its brilliance and the heat beat from it as though it were a furnace.

  Before the hearth Imelza sprang to her feet, claws ready. The clamour of the blaze had startled her from sleep and the blistering waves of flame almost scorched her. She leapt backwards, away from this confusing and fearsome enemy. Fires were meant to bring comfort not frazzle the fur off your back.

  From the cages above there came wailing. Beckett shrieked in panic as the temperature in the attic galloped and soared to a degree that was stifling. A pot by the fireplace began to smoke ominously and then ’CRACK!” it exploded into a thousand pieces. Heliodorus peered down and fanned himself with his tail. On his travels he had been used to hot climates but never had they been this severe.

  By the far wall the three kittens watched aghast. Jupiter had no idea the powers he had unleashed would be so mighty. Speechless, he gawped at the torrent of flame blasting from the grate. Even at this distance the heat was unbearable and to his consternation he saw that the books strewn on the floor were beginning to smoulder.

  “Make it stop!” yelled his sister.

  Leech stared about him in astonishment. That all this should come about simply by the use of a few words bewildered him. He sneaked a look at his brother; he had never guessed that Jupiter was capable of such a magnificent feat and a jealousy which burned more ferociously than the magical fire consumed him.

  Jupiter closed his eyes again and recited the correct words.

  Immediately the roasting fire disappeared. The attic was plunged into darkness and swallowed by the gloom.

  “What has happened?” cried Imelza fearfully as she came to join her children. “What devilry is this?”

  Nobody answered her. Jupiter was too afraid and Dab did not want to get him into trouble. Leech, however, saw an opportunity here for spite. “If you please, Mother,” he piped up, “it was Jupiter who did this. He was showing off what his lord and master has taught him.” His brother shot him a despising glance.

  “What mischief have you been up to, my son?” Imelza asked. “Was this in truth your work?”

  Jupiter nodded. “I intended no harm, Mother,” he told her, “the spell was stronger than I expected. I did not mean to wake you.”

  If he was expecting his mother to scold him he was surprised. Imelza merely gave him a blank look for she did not know what to say. Magic spells were beyond her experience. All she could eventually manage was a stammering, “Take more care next time.”

  Jupiter stared at her hopefully. “Does that mean you no longer have any objections to my being taught by the human?”

  “I deem that would be pointless,” she replied with weary resignation. “Perhaps I was indeed misguided. Maybe there is a higher calling for you, my child.”

  Leech snorted with disgust. He had hoped Jupiter would be soundly punished. This he saw as a definite reward for his brother’s irresponsible actions. With venomous thoughts seeping through his mind, he slunk away from the group and made for the fireplace.

  The embers were almost cool now. Sitting back on the still steaming floor he recalled the sight of those tremendous flames, bitterly coveting the power Jupiter had shown. Slyly Leech turned his ugly head and his eyes swivelled round so that he could keep a watch on his brother.

  Dab was laughing nervously. “I could have died!” she gasped. “I thought we would sizzle for certain. You are clever Jupiter.”

  A smug smile twitched over her brother’s face. “Indeed I am,” he boasted, “but that was only my first essay into the secret ways. The more I endeavour to learn, the greater I shall become.”

  “And the larger shall your head swell,” observed his mother.

  Jupiter would have laughed, but just then he caught the eye of Leech. Quickly the runt averted his face but Jupiter remembered that here was a debt which needed repaying.

  “Try to get me into trouble would you?” he whispered. “Very well, I think I shall use my gifts a second time this night.” Under his breath he began to utter another simple spell. When it was done he turned to his mother and sister. “An unguarded fire is surely a danger to the unwary,” he said. They looked at him curiously, not understandin
g his meaning. But Jupiter merely raised his eyebrows and nodded towards Leech.

  The runt was sitting with his back to them when suddenly a great commotion erupted in the grate. Leech made ready to run in case the fire returned—but it did not. The ashes spluttered and with a loud popping noise a large, red-hot spark whistled from the fireplace and flew towards him.

  Leech squealed in fright. Turning tail he scuttled away as fast as he could. But the fizzing cinder shot after him like a guided comet. It bounced on the floor, cutting bright arcs into the gloom, and homed in unerringly on the terrified kitten. Pots and scrolls clattered down as Leech dived onto one of the shelves to escape this tenacious and fiery hornet but it was no use. The spark sailed straight and true and zoomed right down onto his tail.

  The poor runt’s howls were dreadful to hear. In his bedchamber. Doctor Spittle, who had been oblivious to all else, turned over in his messy bed and grumbled into the pillow. “Curse those minor demons, will they never leave me in peace?”

  Jupiter giggled helplessly, but Dab was not laughing. She could see now what her mother had meant. It would certainly be difficult to keep her brothers on friendly terms at this rate. If the quarrels continued they would be at each other’s throats before long.

  Imelza looked over at the shelf where Leech wept and nursed his smoking tail. “Come child,” she called, “let me see...”

  “I won’t! I won’t!” he bawled back at her. “It’s not fair! Why do I always have to suffer?” And he buried himself under a pile of parchments where he sobbed great tears of self-pity.

  Imelza sighed, “Perhaps we should let him alone; he needs time to himself.” Then she chided her other son. “You should not bully your brother,” she told Jupiter crossly. “He is not as strong as you. It is no easy task to be the runt; could you not show him more kindness?”

  “Me, be kind to him?” cried Jupiter in disbelief. “Believe me when I say I’ve tried. Mother, yet every time I’m nice he does something vile in return. Leech is horrible!”

  “Then you must try harder,” she said.

  Jupiter only laughed.

  Dab watched them wander over to the hearth where they prepared to go to sleep. As she pattered over to join them at the fireside, her pretty little head was full of misgivings. Some terrible strife lay ahead for her brothers and she knew the outcome would be an evil one.

  The tortoiseshell lay on her side and peered across at the shelf where her brother had hidden himself. “Goodnight Leech,” she called softly. There was no response and Dab settled down to a troubled night’s sleep.

  It was black as pitch under the sheaves of parchment. Leech preferred the dark; no one could see him there and no one could see how ugly he was. The only times he was remotely happy were those rare occasions when he was alone. During these isolated periods he could imagine anything he desired, he could be anyone he wanted. His ugliness did not matter when he was estranged from the world and he pretended that he was handsome like his brother. Unfortunately these moments did not last long—there was always some rude awakening from his daydreams and there would be his mother gazing at him with pity in her eyes. He knew she was sorry he had ever been born. She had never said as much but he knew it all the same. This had saddened him at first, but it did not matter any more. At that moment he hated everything in the world and resentful tears streamed down his nose.

  “’Tain’t fair,” he repeated, quietly snivelling into his paw. “I must have been born under a sorry star indeed. Why does Jupiter get all the attention and all the indulgences? Why doesn’t anyone like me—’tain’t my fault I’m the runt—I never asked for it to be so.”

  Wallowing in his dejection. Leech blew on the tip of his singed tail—it was still smarting. Miserably he muttered, “How I loathe my brother; it’s always Jupiter this, Jupiter that. Why must he be the one to have all the power and get all the praise?” He lifted his odd, angular face at the memory of that marvellous spell. How the fire had rushed up the chimney! In spite of his grievances Leech grinned—undoubtedly that had been a grand spectacle. The joy of it was extinguished however when he recalled that it was Jupiter who had contrived it. For several minutes he sat sullen and wretched until a fantastic idea came to him. If Jupiter could do it then why couldn’t he?

  Leech poked his head out of the parchments and stared at the dead fire. He had been careful to memorise exactly what his brother had said and surely it was only a matter of concentration?

  He closed his eyes and recited the words his keen ears had heard. Bracing himself for the magic to course through him he gripped the shelf tightly and waited.

  Nothing happened.

  Leech opened one eye. Perhaps he had overlooked something. Taking a deep breath he tried again. His forehead crinkled and the frowns hooded his eyes completely. The words rasped from his mouth as he ground his teeth together, putting all his strength into the spell.

  Still nothing happened.

  The runt paused for breath and found that his head was pounding with the strain.

  “Ho, ho,” came a soft voice behind him.

  Leech whirled round as though stung by another cinder. “Who is there?” he asked timidly.

  “Thou wastest thy time and effort,” the voice said.

  The kitten sniffed the air; he could not detect anyone. Only the musty scent of mouldering parchment and the withered scent of dried herbs met his nose. Perhaps the acrid smell of his own burnt fur had dulled his senses. Who then had spoken?

  Could one of those impudent rats have escaped and sneaked down here to mock him? If that was the case then the foolish creature had to be hiding behind those bottles and jars. Leech was sick and tired of being the butt of so many jokes. It was bad enough when Jupiter laughed at him but to have a rat do the same was nothing short of degrading. Even now it was probably laughing till its ribs ached. He felt like catching that cruel rodent and teaching it some manners.

  A wicked expression settled over the kitten; there were better things to do with rats he remembered, and he realised that he would enjoy being a hunter. Better to silence those jeers forever with one snap of his jaws, he told himself.

  Assuming the correct stance, he prowled forward. “Little ratty, little ratty,” he purred with menace, “speak to me, speak to Leech that I might know where you are.”

  “Dolt! I am no rodent!”

  Leech stopped in his tracks and nearly toppled from the shelf. To his dismay one of the bottles was glowing and there in the midst of the swirling radiance a ghostly face had appeared.

  The spirit of Magnus Zachaire drew close to the glass. Those sparkling eyes stared out at the runt and a curious look glittered in them. “I fear thou shalt never be a hunter,” it said with some amusement. “The din thou makest is enough to waken the—’ He broke into sudden laughter as he realised what he was about to say. “Well here I am to prove it!” he chuckled.

  Leech fidgeted uncomfortably. Bottles that spoke were a new wonder to him and he was not sure if he trusted it. Suspiciously he turned to see if this was another trick of his brother’s. No, Jupiter was still fast asleep by the hearth.

  “Have no fear,” the spirit said, “I cannot harm thee. I can do naught. See—I am imprisoned.”

  The kitten moved a little nearer then reached out a paw to touch the glass. It was true: whatever that shining creature was, it could not escape. This boosted his confidence. He pulled a fierce expression and spat.

  Magnus scowled at that and the light flared abruptly. Startled, Leech cringed backwards. “I suffer that from no one!” the phantom bellowed angrily.

  “Forgive me!” the kitten pleaded as he hastily wiped the offensive matter from the glass. The glare dimmed and the luminous face accepted the apology. “What are you?” Leech inquired, meekly bowing his head.

  “In life I was Magnus Zachaire,” returned the shade wincing at the memory, “a man of much learning. Or so it amused me to think.”

  “Human!” exclaimed the kitten. “But you unders
tand my speech. How is this possible?”

  “I have been in the pathless void,” Magnus replied darkly. “Mine eyes and ears both see and hear many things beyond the range of mortal men. To converse with thee is a small matter, yet it drives away the pain. While we talk I am spared the agony of enduring recollection.” He passed a transparent hand over his brow and there was something of relief in his tone when he next spoke. “Tell me,” he began, “why art thou named Leech? Who gave thee so uncharitable a title?”

  The kitten gazed at the floor. “Is it not obvious?” he mumbled. “The old human called me thus because I am ugly and the runt of my mother’s womb.”

  “Elias Theophrastus Spittle is cruel indeed,” remarked the spirit. “There is naught shameful in being the runt, for weaklings grow and can achieve greatness.”

  “Not I,” came the sour response. “All mock me—there are times I wish I was dead.”

  Magnus’s floating head reared at that. “Jest not about the grave,” he said solemnly, “thou knowest not what death means. It is a cold emptiness that ever gnaws at thee, rush not into its chilling embrace before thy time.”

  Leech shrugged, “What do I care? At least I would escape my brother.”

  “Thy brother? Ah yes!” The face stared through the glass at the slumbering group before the fireplace. “I was witness to his display,” he said admiringly. “Never have I seen the like. Yonder kitten shall grow to be exceedingly strong and powerful, his strength increaseth daily. I foresee a time when even Elias Theophrastus Spittle will not be able to hold him in check.”

  Leech snorted unhappily and tossed his head. “You are like the others,” he whined, “they too praise my brother—well, not me. I hate him!”

  A mild chuckle issued from the bottle. “Poor, wretched Leech,” Magnus said sadly, “take the counsel I give to thee. Leave this black road of jealousy and loathing which thou hast begun to tread. Disaster and tragedy shall surely come of it.”